


Words

by turps



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A birthday story for Ninjetti75. A slice of JC's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ephemera for beta reading.

It's late morning when JC wakes. The sheets are tangled around his legs so he kicks hard until he's free then pushes them to the bottom of the bed where they slip to the floor. He feels good, warm and fully rested, and he can't help smiling as he extends his arms, enjoying a stretch after a good nights sleep. 

When his hand brushes against paper he turns his head and sees a yellow sticky note on the pillow next to him. Reaching for it he holds it close to his face, until he can make out the words. 

  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v240/turps332/challenge/?action=view&current=c1.gif)

Deciding Chris deserves a sainthood, JC rolls onto his front and gropes for something to wear. Searching through the pile of clothes next to the bed he finds a pair of capri pants and quickly pulls them on before selecting a tank top to complete the outfit. Shoeless, he heads downstairs, enjoying the smell of coffee that fills the house. It's especially strong when he pushes open the kitchen door and JC finally looks at his watch, realising that it's well after ten. 

He sees the note as soon as he approaches the coffee machine. It's stuck on the side and JC pulls it free, reading as he grabs the jug ready to throw away the coffee which looks black and almost burnt. 

  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v240/turps332/challenge/?action=view&current=c2.gif)

As soon as he reads the note JC knows he'll drink the coffee, even if he has to force down every drop. It's a matter of pride, something to prove to himself that he's not that predictable. Pouring coffee into the biggest mug he can find, JC adds almost half a mug of milk then quickly drinks, grimacing at the taste. He takes three big gulps, then sets the mug on the bench, shivering slightly at the caffeine hit. 

The jug's still half full, but JC tips it into the sink without a second thought. If Chris asks he can honestly answer that he drank his coffee, there's no need to mention how it stewed for almost an hour. Grabbing the last apple from the bowl, he sits at the kitchen table, reaching for the open newspaper. Carefully straightening it, JC brushes away crumbs, evidence of Chris and Justin' bagel breakfast, then shines the apple against his chest. When he can see his face reflected he takes a bite, letting the tart juice hide the lingering taste of coffee, then slowly eats while reading. 

When there's nothing left of the apple but a thin strip of core, JC throws it toward the garbage can, celebrating by punching the air when it drops neatly inside. Happy with the throw, he hums under his breath as he folds the newspaper and swipes the crumbs from the table into his cupped hand. Dropping them into the sink he turns on the faucet and swills out his mug and the coffee pot before putting them into the dishwasher next to the two already in there. 

Reluctant to the leave the sunny kitchen just yet, JC looks around and notices the shopping list stuck to the fridge with four magnets. Remembering they need more apples he walks over, enjoying the feel of the cool tiles against his bare feet. There's a blue pen on top of the pasta jars and he adds apples to the list, under the last note left by Justin. 

  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v240/turps332/challenge/?action=view&current=spring-butterfly.gif)

For a moment JC considers going shopping, then almost immediately decides against it. If he goes now it'll mean arranging security, something that doesn't appeal. Plus if he waits it means Chris will come along, and going shopping together is always fun. No one else ever gets how important it is to look for bargains. JC firmly believes even if something costs thousands of dollars it's still a bargain if it's on discount, and he knows Chris feels the same, whether it's a new car or a tin of beans. 

Decision made, he wanders toward the garden, making a detour when he hears his cell signal a received message. It takes JC almost fifteen minutes to find it, and even then it's by accident when he trips over a pair of pants that are half hidden under the sofa. On hands and knees, he celebrates when he sees the phone under the easy chair, and reaches for it while lying on his front. 

Slowly pushing buttons and cursing Chris' new thing for texting he eventually has the last message on the screen, grinning at the words. 

  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v240/turps332/challenge/?action=view&current=phone_screen.gif)

Flat on his stomach still, JC can almost see the scene at the golf course. Chris crowing his victory, Justin torn between being annoyed and amused before they end up rough housing as the other members scornfully walk past. It's a scene he saw over and over before realising living with Chris didn't mean doing everything with him, especially after the incident with Justin's head, though really he shouldn't have been standing that close when JC tried to hit the ball. 

Laughing at the thought of Justin's face as he dove to the ground, JC stands and pushes his cell in his pocket. He knows Chris won't be home for hours yet which means the whole afternoon is free, a perfect time to do some writing. Quickly running upstairs, he opens the French doors in their bedroom then picks up his songbook which lies on the keyboard set up next to the tv and games system. There's a chewed pen on there too, so he grabs that before sitting on the bed, propped up on the pillows. 

The book's heavy in his hands, leather with gold inlaid writing on the front, and JC runs his fingers gently across his name before opening it up. 

  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v240/turps332/challenge/?action=view&current=songbook.gif)

The pages are full of his song writing history. Parts of songs and individual words, testimonies of nights spent reaching for the perfect lyric. JC can recite them all, the words that map his life. Love, lust, despair. It's all in this book, in a musical code only the closest can understand. 

Carefully turning the pages, he finds his latest work, nibbling on the pen as he reads about love and happiness. The words scrawl across the page, big and messy, evidence of the early hour as he'd sat hunched up in bed, rubbing at his tired eyes and trying to write in the weak light of the bedside lamp. Chris had been asleep next to him, head resting against JC's side and that slight touch had been enough to unlock a song, which he'd feverishly, wrote down as he fought against fatigue. 

It's a good song but not good enough, and as JC reads it again he knows that. He also knows it doesn't have to be great, because seeing it reminds him of that moment of love and happiness and that has to be the most important thing of all. 

Smiling, JC turns to a new blank page. His mind is full of words that bump and collide, making nonsensical sentences that can look ridiculous written down. At times he wonders how he ever writes anything, then at others he's inspired, capturing words and rearranging them onto the page. But not today. Today the words are nothing but echoes, slipping out of his grasp. 

Instead of writing JC finds himself listening to the silence of the house. It's almost too silent and he eventually closes his book before rolling onto his stomach to reach for the remote that's lying on Chris' bedside table. Pushing buttons he switches on the stereo, skipping through discs until he finds music that fits his mood then hangs head down off the bed as he rummages for something to read. 

There's an untidy pile of books and magazines on the floor and JC looks through them, tidying the stack as he goes. A card sticks out between two of the books and JC pulls it free then laughs as he opens it up. 

  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v240/turps332/challenge/?action=view&current=ChimpChums1.jpg) [](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v240/turps332/challenge/?action=view&current=ChimpChums2.jpg)

Even now, months later, he remembers opening the door of the dressing room to be confronted with a huge basket of candy, cookies and fruit. The card was jammed between two bananas and JC read it while eating handfuls of jelly beans. After, the knot in his stomach disappeared and he'd performed a flawless show, riding a high of sugar and Chris' concern. 

"JC!" 

Chris' yell is loud, startling JC from his memories. Standing, he leaves the card on his bedside table and hurries to the stairs, looking down at Chris who's standing in the hall carrying a cardboard drinks holder and a bag. 

"I brought you food," Chris holds up a bag from JC's favourite deli, then heads toward the kitchen. 

Realising he's hungry, JC hurries downstairs, then watches as Chris slides a sandwich onto a plate then carefully pulls a cup from the holder. 

"Here, I got you a mocha and that nasty bean sprout tofu thing you like," Chris says as he hands over the plate and cup. Pulling his own cup free, he grins as JC takes a long drink before sitting at the kitchen table. "You slept in didn't you." 

JC thinks about denying Chris' statement, then decides it's better to just ignore it. They both know he slept in anyway. "I thought you were going to lunch with Justin?" 

"I did. He's gone to see someone now. No idea who, could be anyone as far as I know." Chris waves his hand dismissively and JC nods. Chris hasn't called him on the sleeping thing, so he won't call him on the fact that Chris will know exactly who Justin's seeing, the same as he knows things about them all. 

"Do you know my parents never go to bed without saying I love you?" JC asks suddenly, looking over at Chris. He's picking his sandwich apart, pulling bean sprouts free then crunching them one by one between his teeth. 

I know now," Chris replies and he drinks his coffee, peering at JC over the lid. "Is there something you're trying to say?" 

"No." JC bites another bean sprout, pulling more free as he remembers his parents nightly routine. "Just something I wanted to share." 

Chris stares at JC then smiles a little. "I'm going to shower, beating J works up a sweat." Standing, he drains his cup then kisses JC, leaving him with the taste of coffee against his lips. 

Thirty minutes later and JC's wondering what's taking so long. Curious, he drops the rubbish in the trash can then runs upstairs, stopping next to the closed master-bathroom door. It's quiet, so he pushes it open, then stands frozen in place. 

  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v240/turps332/challenge/?action=view&current=mirror.jpg)

"I might not say it, but I do love you." Chris appears behind JC, and he looks at the two of them reflected in the mirror, _I love you_ written over the surface in purple lube. 

"I know," JC says and he turns to look at Chris. "I've always known, I love you too, moron." 

JC grabs the lube out of the sink before he's pulled from the room. Somehow he knows they'll need it.


End file.
